Zombie Pheromones
by scythequeen
Summary: Zombie pheromones in action. Ellis secretes a scent that attracts the special infected, flipping a switch in their feral brains from rage to arousal. Each chapter is an independent scenario that contains explicit, non consensual, sexual situations.


Zombie Pheromones: Smoker

It was quiet in the safe house. After hours of trekking through the muddy swamp, the survivors were exhausted and grateful to have a dry place to rest. Nick had already collapsed onto the lone mattress on the floor and fallen into a light sleep. His suit jacket was tossed to the side, along with his socks and shoes, in the hope that they would dry out. Coach was checking the ammo supply, while Rochelle looked for anything that might pass for food. Of course, it was the young mechanic who broke the silence.

"Hey ya'll, Imma gonna go 'n take a piss."

Rochelle wrinkled her nose at the announcement. Coach simply nodded with a, "Don't wander too far, young'un."

Machete in hand, Ellis unbarred the door to the safe house and stepped out onto the embankment it rested on. His boots squished as he walked, leaving tracks in the wet grass. He surveyed the swamp-grounds. They had done a good sweep of the area before hunkering down, but it was starting to get dark and you could never be too careful. Finally convinced all was clear, he settled up to a group of half-dead trees, speared his machete's blade into the ground beside him and set about loosening the sleeves of his coveralls just enough to lower the zipper and slip them farther down on his hips, giving him the access he needed.

He resisted the urge to whistle like he usually did during lone trips to the bathroom, but couldn't stop the soft sigh of relief that came out as he emptied his bladder, eyes still on the lookout for any stray Infected. Finished, he gave himself a quick shake and tucked himself back into his underwear. He was about to zip up when he was grabbed, a long tongue shooting from the trees in front of him and wrapping tightly around his neck and chest. His hand went for his weapon but before he could grab it or even shout out for help he was pulled to the ground, the air forced from his lungs in a sharp burst, and dragged through the trees.

The mechanic kicked out and struggled, trying to catch his feet on any of the obstacles he was dragged past. Despite his best efforts, the only thing that seemed to be catching were his unfastened coveralls. Each foot he was dragged sent them slipping a little further down his legs. Suddenly, the ground dropped steeply and then he was falling faster then the Smoker could pull him, body rolling over sharp rocks and thorny bushes, ending in a splash as he hit the foul water of the swamp. The Infected's hold held true even after the tumble and with a jerk, Ellis was off again, towed through the water like a fish on the end of a line. Just how far was this thing planning on taking him? He broke surface, and managed to gasp a mouthful of air before the tongue tightened again and he was yanked up against the decaying frame of a former shack, hat lost to the water and pants a soggy pool around his ankles. The Smoker gave a few more unyielding tugs before realizing its victim wasn't going any further and choking out an angry wheeze.

Ellis felt the tongue shift, loosening its coil around his neck ever so slightly. "S-smoker's got me!" He took his chance to holler weakly for help, not even sure if the others would be able to hear him considering how far he had been dragged. "Smoker's got m-aah! What the hell!" He jerked his head back as something slick slipped across his cheek. Dangling next to his face was another tongue, smaller then the one restraining his torso. It writhed and stretched, trying to reach more of him but couldn't seem to go past his shoulder. Ellis grimaced at the wet trail of zombie slobber dripping off him. A string of dry coughing came from above him, followed by an odd snuffling sound.

Ellis twisted his body against the Smoker's grip and tilted his head back, trying to catch a glimpse of the thing. The bare frame of the building did little to restrict his view. He could easily see its head leaning out the space where a second story window use to be, directly above him.

Shit, Ellis had forgotten just how ugly the bastards were. The swollen growths on its head and neck jiggled repulsively as it tried to breathe through what was left of its nose, taking in the sent of the mechanic. The Infected turned its head down and for the briefest of moments their eyes locked. Ellis felt a chill as that milky eye bore into him, blank and unreadable like a wild animal's. He stared, unable to look away as another small tongue poked its way out from the fleshy mass on the Smoker's neck and descended down on him. Ellis once again turned his head trying to fend off the wet muscles without much success, they curiously trailed over his face, making him flinch when one's tip flickered into his ear.

He could hear the Smoker's breathing growing labored, the coughs and wheezes accompanied by short huffs.

"Gross man, knock it off ya stupid-" He was cut off as the grip tightened around his neck. He fought against it, trying to make it loosen. His eyes shot down when he felt a tickle on his inner thigh and saw that another tongue had managed to sneak past him and was wetly trailing its way up the leg of his boxer shorts. He squirmed and once again tried to kick out, his sodden pants weighing down his legs and tangling up his ankles. The infected ignored his struggles, slimy appendage continuing its exploration. Ellis froze when he felt it flick against the tip of his limp dick. It slid over the shaft and past his balls and to the young man's horror down to the crevice of his ass where it slicked across his hole. His sphincter instinctively tightened, the action only managing to capture the Smoker's interest more, its tongue circling the tight twitching muscle.

"Ahh, shit giddoff me!" Ellis tossed about in the Smoker's hold, wanting desperately to get the probing tendril away from that particular part of his anatomy. There was another loud round of coughing and one of the tongues at his face slipped over his brow, making him curse and draw back. Efficiently distracted, he didn't notice that it was not alone. Another tongue curled around the thigh of his left leg yanking it up as high as his entangled ankles would allow. A startled gasp flew from the mechanic's lips as the new position spread open his ass cheeks and the tip of the tongue around his leg joined the other in lapping at his anus.

It felt weird, so, so weird. The constant wet stroking pressure over the sensitive pucker of his ass, he had never felt anything like it before. His thoughts circled and tripped over each other as he tried to worm away from the unwanted rim job. What the hell was wrong with this Smoker? Was it some kind of pervert before it got infected, or did the sickness mess with its head enough that the wires for kill and fuck had been crossed somewhere down the line? He shuddered. The thought of a zombie fucking him (with a tongue or anything else) left him with a churning feeling in his stomach, like he might be sick. He tried to keep himself clenched but the muscle began to exhaust under the tongues' relentless attack.

"No, no, shit no," he muttered hopelessly as he felt himself loosen.

The Smoker noticed the give and increased the pressure, the tip of one tongue managing to push past the ring of muscle. It darted in and out, testing the waters so to speak. When hardly any resistance was met it plunged in, not stopping until it was a good five inches deep. Ellis choked out a scream that was quickly muffled by the tongue around his throat tightening, and another shoving into his open mouth. It wrestled against his own tongue and he had to fight the urge to vomit again. It was disgusting; instead of being pliable and soft like a normal human tongue, it was thick skinned and slimy, covered in tumorous lumps and it tasted rotten, like a back alley dumpster on a hot day. He bit down hard, causing the tentacle-like organs both in his mouth and ass to thrash wildly as the Smoker let out a shrill cry of pain and jerked the tongue out of his mouth. In retaliation, its grip constricted even tighter and the tongue between his legs shoved another two inches deeper.

Ellis groaned in pain and clenched his teeth as the tongue hesitantly attempted to enter his mouth again. The tip licking at his lips, lazily rolling over and under the soft flesh, dark coppery blood dripping down from where his teeth had broken the skin. Panic flooded into him and he wrenched his head back in avoidance. These weird viruses could be spread through body fluids couldn't they? At least that was how it always seemed to work in the movies. He frantically tried to think if he had swallowed any of the foul stuff, his pulse quickening when he couldn't remember. He felt ill again, what if he wasn't immune? What if, given the chance he got out of this, he ended up turning? The more he thought about it, the more he could swear he tasted the Smoker's dark infection-tainted blood on his tongue, filling his mouth. The Infected's tongue continued trying to slip past his lips, he ground his teeth together even harder, until his jaw began to ache, repeating over and over in his head not to swallow. While his mind was on the tongue at his face, the second tongue at his ass circled around the rim as the other licked and stroked at his insides and then it too pushed into him. The pain of being stretched even further caused his eyes to water. Thankfully, the second tongue wasn't as thick and didn't try to venture as deep as its partner, staying roughly an inch or two inside him. He tried to catch a breath, tried to adjust to the added tension but then the damn thing curled upward and hit something that sent a spark up his spine and caused his knees to buckle. He gagged as his weight was placed on the tongue restraining his neck, quickly righting himself back up before the thing suffocated him. It stroked the spot again and Ellis bit back a curse, his heartbeat growing faster and the faint hint of arousal starting to fill his gut and pool from his dick.

He shut his eyes tight, disgusted with himself. This wasn't happening, no way. How could he be getting turned on by some damn zombie licking at his ass when it probably just wanted to eat him? The assault on his prostate continued, his cock growing to a full erection that tented the front of his wet underwear. Another tongue snaked down his front. Was that six now? How many damn tongues did these fuckers have? It easily passed under the waistband of his boxers quickly finding the wet tip of his hard-on and sliding across the slit, collecting the fluid that dripped out. His cock twitched at the attention, a shudder wracking his body as he fought back a moan.

Another lick at his cock head timed perfectly with a thrust at his prostate and his mouth opened to let out a pitched groan. Why did it have to feel so good? He didn't want to feel this way. It was disgusting, debasing, not to mention undignified. What the hell was wrong with him?

The Smoker took its chance, twisting the two shorter tongues at his mouth together and thrusting them in all the way down his throat. He struggled and thrashed his head, trying to expel the squirming projections blocking his airway but they just seemed to go deeper. He almost retched but managed to fight it back. If he puked now he'd certainly choke on it. The lower tongues didn't stop their actions, still stroking and prodding him and he could not catch a breath, a slow burn growing in his chest from the lack of oxygen. His mouth worked around the invading tongues but was unable to force them back, jaw stretched too painfully wide to bite. His watering eyes finally spilled into angry tears as he realized that he was going to die here, not in an explosive blaze of glory, or a heroic sacrifice like he had imagined, but alone, violated, choked and fucked by a goddamn zombie. His heart pounded even faster, each heave of his chest causing the binding tongues to constrict tighter around him. The burning sensation seemed to envelop his lungs.

He didn't want to die. His mind raced through his loved ones his Mama, his Grandpa, Keith and Dave and all his other friends who worked with him at the shop, Coach, Ro, and even Nick because damn if they weren't as good as family now too. And he'd let them down, all of them. He was going to die and cause all those people who had been counting on him, waiting on him, so much grief. A sob tried to worm its way out but caught on the tongues down his throat and turned into a gag. His hips bucked forward as another slimy stroke slid over his aching cock. It was all getting to be too much. Too fast, too tight, too deep. He wasn't sure how much more he could endure.

His vision was fading, turning all blurry and black around the edges. His chest was on fire, lungs screaming for air, and still the flood of arousal refused to leave. He felt close, so painfully close. A tremendous pressure was building all over his body, his cock, his chest, his throat, his ass, growing and growing, burning, stretching, throbbing. Pleasure, pain it was all blurring together and he was certain he would just explode from it all. His eyes rolled back into his head and just as he was about to black out, a loud blast filled the air.

All at once, the tongues went limp and the tightness around his neck and chest lifted, the sheer relief of the tension ripping his orgasm from his body as he collapsed to the ground with a strangled sob. His vision was still recovering, but he recognized the large figure of Coach running toward him in a blur of purple and gold. Coach let go of his hunting rifle, letting it clatter to the ground and dropped to his knees at the boy's side. He quickly grabbed the tongues that were lodged in the younger man's mouth and gave a forceful pull. Ellis' eyes widened and he gagged and sputtered as they were yanked from his airway, he drew in a deep shuttered breath before rolling to his side and promptly vomiting in loud painful heaves.

Coach lay a comforting hand on his back and frowned when Ellis flinched away. His eyes moved down the shaking boy's body, trying to make out if he had any serious injury. His eyes came to a grinding halt when he saw the long tumor ridden flesh that disappeared up the young man's shorts. Coach's eyes narrowed and his jaw set firmly as a flurry of emotions coursed through him. Anger, disgust, fear, even a sliver of guilt. Goddammit, that boy didn't deserve this, nobody did. He reached down and grabbed it, pulling it out with a bit more gentleness then he had the ones in the boy's mouth. Ellis let out a whimper as another wave of nausea took over, the bile burning his raw esophagus.

Coach examined the tongue in his hand, frown deepening when he saw traces of blood. His mind flashing back to the night one of his students had knocked on his door, clothes torn and sobbing. This was different, there was no authorities to report to, no therapist to talk to, just him and the boy.

"Ellis, you need to get up." The mechanic shook his head, back still trembling. The older man firmly grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up out of his sick. He forced the boy to look him in the eye, his voice resounding deep and serious. "Now you listen to me and you listen good. All that shit running around in your head right now, you just forget about it. Ain't none of it true, and ain't none of it your fault. You hear me, son?"

Ellis nodded, bringing an arm up to wipe at his face.

"Okay, we need to get back to the safe house. You good to walk?"

"I reckon so." He reached down and shakily pulled up his drenched pants, fastening them and tying the sleeves of his coveralls tight. He began walking the direction Coach had come from, a slight limp to his step. Coach stayed close, rifle back in hand, in case Ellis faltered or needed a shoulder to lean on.

"Hey, Coach?"

"Yeah, young'un?"

"Thanks."

Coach didn't ask to clarify whether the gratitude was for the rescue or the words afterward. He just responded by ruffling the damp curls of the young man's head.

Ellis looked down at the murky swamp water, hesitating before speaking again. "Could you... not tell anybody? 'Bout what happened I mean."

"Not a soul, son."

Ellis nodded, face setting into a weak sort of relief. They continued their slow trek back to the safe house in silence.

AN: I originally wrote this one for the kink meme.


End file.
